


Just an Accident

by geckx3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Broken Bones, Feral Behavior, Gen, kindaaaa implied slight parental neglect, piglin techno is better than anime techno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28215837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckx3/pseuds/geckx3
Summary: Ghostbur's memory of him and Techno sparring cuts off suddenly, right at the end. They fight, Techno gets a lucky swipe in and- nothing. The memory ends.Why is that?
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 138





	Just an Accident

Two days after Technoblade’s 16th birthday, Phil realised his son had surpassed him.

This was, of course, a realisation that all fathers must face someday: the dawning knowledge that, if it came down to it in a 1-v-1 fight, the kid they’d spent years feeding, clothing, and sending to their room could just absolutely wreck their shit. Usually that realisation comes later in life, when their kid’s reached their prime just as their parents have begun to slip into the quiet deterioration of middle age. For Phil, this came only a year or so after he’d conquered half another fucking dimension, and he was definitely not middle-aged, and skilled enough with a weapon that he’d started becoming known as ‘Killza’. Technoblade had only just turned 16, was definitely not in the prime of his life (which was a terrifying thing to imagine in itself) and could pummel an opponent into the dirt with a flower within 5 minutes.

Phil was two-parts proud, one-part scared. Because while having a stupidly skilled son around was great for stuff like chores and smashing local tournaments, it  _ wasn’t _ as great when stuff like  _ this _ happened.

The scene before him lay frozen, silent save for Wilbur’s laboured breathing and Tommy whimpering in the background. There was no screaming, not anymore - it’d been Will’s screech that’d gotten his attention in the first place, a maddened desperate scream you only hear when shit’s gotten serious. That had been followed by the sound of someone hitting the ground fast and hard, a yell from the younger sibling, and the unmistakable noise of a weapon being slowly drawn out from its sheath. 

It’s said that in high-stress situations, time itself seems to slow down. Something to do with the adrenaline, or something. And, of course, this wasn’t the first stressful scenario Phil had found himself in - life as an adventurer had its fair share of scares. But this was one of the first times he felt frozen and truly  _ helpless _ , knowing he had to act, yet not knowing  _ how _ . Because this wasn’t just a rogue skeleton taking potshots at one of his sons, something he could just rely on his skill at killing to take care of. This was Techno. His  _ son _ , standing above Wilbur, eyes blank and ears drawn back, lips drawn back into a gruesome snarl. Blood on his hands. Blood on his hooves. Blood on his mouth. 

And, as mentioned before, there was that other issue with taking a fighting approach to this whole thing: as much as it pained Phil to admit, there was a decent chance Techno would win if they fought one on one. Not win in a duel way, axe inches away from the neck but never piercing, never doing any permanent harm. From the way Techno’s eyes looked, and the way his hands were trembling, and the metallic smell in the air, it was pretty clear the Piglin was in one of his ‘rages’. If they fought, he wouldn’t hold back.

There are drawbacks to fusing with an elytra the way Phil had. The wings aren’t meant for long-term usage, and so changes are made to the body to make flying easier. His bones are hollow. Techno could snap his limbs like twigs.

So, fighting won’t work. It’d have to be words instead.

“Techno…?” At the sound of Phil’s voice, the Piglin’s head snapped to one side. Those white eyes bore into him, and he’d be lying if he said he could see any sign of the quiet, stoic, gentle son he’d raised in those eyes. This was really, really fucking bad.

“Techno, mate...I’m gonna come a bit closer, alright? There’s no need to get violent, I just want to talk. Okay? Okay.” 

Phil inched forward, achingly slow, aiming for that short gap of space in between Techno and Wilbur. His wings were folded downwards, the alula almost scraping the dirt. In battle they’d be splayed outwards, making himself look bigger, scarier, casting a shadow greater than himself. Now he needed to create the exact opposite illusion - make himself look as unthreatening impossible. As lost as he was in this feral state, Techno wouldn’t attack without warning, only when provoked. All Phil needed to do is be as gentle as humanly possible. Easier said than done.

Now he’d gotten closer, the full state of Wilbur’s injuries became clear. A sword-swipe arching right across his chest cut through the yellow sweater like a hot knife through butter. That’d been the main source of blood, presumably the trigger for Techno’s rage. Must have been an accident, just a stupid accident. Wilbur had gotten hurt, hadn’t noticed, kept attacking, and Techno attacked back. Accidents happen. But accidents don’t usually get this bad.

Further injuries had come after the initial cut; Phil could see claw-gouges and bite-marks scrawled up Wilbur’s left arm, the sort of marks the Piglin only leaves when he’s like This. Mud, grass and a little splatter of blood coated Will’s back from where he’d landed on the ground. The worst part, though, was his right ankle. It was bleeding heavily and bent at a nauseating angle. If Phil looked close enough, he could almost see bone. Evidently, Wilbur had tried to crawl away, deescalate the situation, and gotten a hoof stomped down directly on the joint, shattering it.

Phil felt ill.

He couldn’t get Will out of the way yet. If he motioned to his son to get the hell out of there Techno would see, might try and make sure he didn’t escape. That’s not even mentioning the smashed ankle - there was no way of getting Will out of the danger zone. Not yet. Had to calm Techno down first.

He stopped a few feet away from the two, almost fully between Techno and Wilbur, muttering comforts to Techno all the while.

“It’s just me Techno, it’s just me. I’m here. You know me, right mate? It’s just Phil, I’m right here, you don’t need to be scared, it’s okay.” Soft strings of whatever calming words came to mind. Techno’s snout twitched and he snorted, shook his head, loosened his grip on the axe. The lack of pupils made it hard to discern where the Piglin was looking, but from his head movements, Phil could discern his son was looking rapidly from him, to Wilbur, back to him, breathing strained and frightened.

Almost there.

All at once Techno collapsed, falling into Phil’s arm with all his weight, so that the adventurer stumbled and almost fell himself. The Piglin was shivering, violently, clutching onto Phil’s cloak and feathers like they were a lifeline. It hurt, a bit, but that was okay. It was going to be okay. They all were.

Phil forgot, sometimes, that Techno was only 16. He was taller, bigger, hit harder and ran faster, and from a distance, anyone could mistake him for a full-grown Piglin brute. But then there were times like this - his son frail and trembling, enveloped in Phil’s wings, mumbling half-coherent apologies - that reminded him that while his body may be stronger than that of an adult human’s, he was still a  _ kid _ . A kid who needed a father.

In the meantime, Tommy helped Wilbur away from the Piglin. They both watched, waited for Phil to remember Techno wasn’t the only son that needed him. And waited. 

And waited.


End file.
